


Shake the Ground

by SkyMaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyMaster/pseuds/SkyMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Alastair and Uriel's betrayal, Castiel confronts an unwelcome guest. Set immediately after the events of 4x16, "On the Head of a Pin". One-shot. No parings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a quick authors note. This is my first fanfic (that I've actually completed). It's an introduction to my Supernatural OC. Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged!
> 
> Title is taken from the song "Shake the Ground" by the Cherri Bombs.
> 
> I do not own Castiel, the Winchesters, or Supernatural.
> 
> Minerva belongs to me.
> 
> Takes place after the events of 4x16, On the Head of a Pin.
> 
> Enjoy

“I know you can hear me, Flyboy.”

Castiel looked up from watching over Dean Winchester, who had fallen asleep in the hospital bed, and turned towards the sound of the voice. He had of course heard it as if the speaker was right next to him, though in reality she was standing right outside the doorway, just out of his physical sight, speaking just above a whisper.

“Why don’t you come out here and…keep me company for a bit?” she continued in a taunting tone. “Your Righteous Man isn’t going anywhere.” She paused a moment to see if he’d come. “Besides, I need to talk to you,” she added after a moment when he didn’t come out.

It took less than a millisecond for Castiel to appear in the hallway outside the door and in front of the unwanted visitor. She was leaning casually against the wall in jeans and a zip-up hoodie, hands stuffed in the pockets, her hair as black and wild as her twisted soul. She wore an amused smirk on her face as the angel materialized across from her, silently marking what was in retrospect a petty victory: she had gotten him to come to _her_.

Castiel had vocally disapproved of her presence around the Winchesters, but Dean had insisted that this abomination, Minerva as she called herself, had been useful on more than one occasion. He would withhold from smiting her, at least for the time being.

“So, Alastair wasn’t the angel murderer,” Minerva started casually, looking over at him. “I could’ve told you that.”

“What do you want?” Castiel demanded.

“Boy, there’s no beating around the bush with you,” she replied. “I was just admiring your handiwork.” She gave a quick glance back at Dean. “Gotta say, I don’t think I could’ve done better myself.”

“I was not the one who-“

“Yeah, but you might as well have,” she said quickly cutting him off. “You do realize this is your fault, right? I mean, you’re the one that got him into this.” She gave him a smirk. “You might as well have beaten him with your own hands.”

Though angered by this statement, Castiel merely gave her a hard look, realizing that she was _trying_ to provoke him.

“Why are you really here?” he asked impatiently. He was not in the mood for her mind games.

“Aww, did I hit a raw nerve?” she teased, smiling. He met her smirk with an icy stare. “Fine,” she said, getting serious. “I’m here to keep an eye on my investments.”

“Your investments?” Castiel questioned. She looked at him a moment before glancing back at Dean. She took a breath.

“Look, I don’t want this Apocalypse thing to happen any more than you do, and it’s like you said: only the guy who started it can stop it.” She looked back at the angel. “By the way, when, exactly, were you going to tell Dean that he had broken the first seal?”

This time it was Castiel’s turn to glance away. Minerva studied him as he shifted.

“You weren’t,” she vocalized, an amused glint in her eye. “If you lot had it your way, he never would’ve known.”

“You knew,” he pointed out. “You could have easily told him.”

“I suppose I could’ve, but it wasn’t supposed to be my responsibility, it was yours,” she retorted, now glaring at him, “just like it was your responsibility to keep him safe, and you can see how well that worked out. You asked me why I’m here: Apparently someone needs to make sure your job gets done right.”

“Dean Winchester is still alive.”

“No thanks to you! I hear you had to get your ass saved twice tonight. What kind of ‘Soldier of God’ needs to be rescued twice in one night?”

Castiel was shocked. The incident had happened only hours ago. How in the world could she have possibly…?

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” she said. “News travels fast, especially concerning angels. It’s amazing what you can hear when you’re willing to stop and listen to the whispers.”

Castiel regained his composure and walked towards her until they were inches away. Minerva pressed up against the wall as much as she could. While she was sure he wouldn’t harm her, at least not yet, he had an intimidating presence. Even his human vessel towered over hers. The guy never even seemed to blink.

“I don’t need a creature from the Pit telling me how to do my job,” he growled threateningly.

She tried to meet his stare, only to end up averting her eyes down towards his chest; partially due to the height difference (his chest being more eye-level for her), and partially because his gaze seemed to burn right through her. Just because Dean had put her off-limits for smiting didn’t mean this guy was above blinding her with his divine night-light. She had seen first-hand what seeing even part of an angel’s true form could do to a human, let alone something like her.

“Right,” she finally mustered after a few tense moments, “threat received.” Castiel held his ground for a few more moments, eventually turning to return to Dean’s bedside. He was through with this black stain of a soul for the time being.

Minerva, however, was not done with him.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” she said without turning before he could walk very far. The angel paused for a moment, debating whether or not to take the bait she was obviously throwing at him. Minerva took his hesitation as a sign to continue.

“It starts as a little tickle in the back of your mind, nothing to really worry about,” she began casually. “Then it becomes more pronounced, like an itch you can’t scratch. Soon that itch has grown arms and begins tugging away at the back of your head. It’s still not much, but it’s enough to make you hesitate every now and then; just enough to make you stop… and think…and wonder.” Castiel turned his head to face her, admittedly being drawn to and confused by her strange speech.

“What are you babbling about?” he asked.

This time Minerva was able to meet his eyes. She smiled and conjured up every bit of intimidation she could muster into the next word she uttered:

“ _Doubt_.”

Castiel’s flinch at the word was so subtle that it would’ve been lost on the human eye. But it was not lost on Minerva’s gaze. She took a deep, dramatic breath through her nose.

“It’s oozing off of you like bad cologne,” she continued. “You trusted Uriel completely, and he betrayed you to Lucifer’s cause. It really makes you wonder, who can you trust? How many more are just like him?” Castiel merely stared at her, not wanting to fold and break eye contact, but at the same time not having a comeback for that statement. Minerva kept going.

“Tell you what, since I’m in a pretty generous mood today, I’ll give you the same advice I gave Dean when this whole end-of-days business started.” She walked away from the wall towards the middle of the hallway to face him fully.

“Never trust an angel. They’ll only ever screw you over.”

“And you won’t?” Castiel questioned, finding his voice again. “You mean to tell me that when the Winchesters have outlived their usefulness to you, you won’t betray them?”

“Why would I?” she asked, like the answer was obvious. “These are the bastards that ganked Azazel; friggin’ Yellow Eyes! You really think I want _them_ breathing down _my_ neck because I decided to double cross them at the last minute? I don’t think so.”

“You’d rather have Lucifer as your enemy then the Winchesters?”

“Lucifer is everyone’s enemy, you twat. I’m just the only one that’s smart enough to realize it.”

“So you’ll remain their ally for the sole purpose of self-preservation?”

“That’s right. News flash Flyboy: I’m not a noble person. I do what I gotta do to stay alive; anything more is flirting with death, and he’s not my type.”

Castiel approached her again. Minerva held her ground, determined not to let him intimidate her a second time. Once again he came very close, and the petty part of Minerva’s mind was a bit irked that she had to look up to meet his gaze.

“In that case, I suggest you start showing me more respect,” he said, looking unblinking at her. It could have been her imagination, but it almost looked like his eyes were glowing. “Because when _your_ usefulness runs out, I’ll be waiting.”

“Yeah, but until then you can’t lay a hand on me, can you?” she asked tauntingly. “Not without going against Dean’s good word for me, and his trust in you has already taken a bit of a blow now, hasn’t it?” She smiled and took a few steps back. Castiel remained where he was, still not breaking eye contact. Minerva scoffed. “You’re nothing but a dog on a short leash.”

“And you are nothing but a coward and a parasite,” he countered.

“The price of freedom. Oh, but what would you know about freedom?”

Once again, Minerva was met with an icy glare.

“Answer me this then,” she went on. “Why haven’t you healed him yet?” She gestured toward the occupied hospital room. “You and I both know you’ve got the power to do it.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh I get it; you didn’t get that stamp of approval from the higher ups. You know, I’m fairly surprised that you haven’t choked on that leash they’ve put on you. Hell, why bring in Dean to begin with? I’ve heard a thing or two about angel ‘interrogation’ techniques; not much, mind you, but enough to know that you didn’t actually need him. Why bother bringing him in at all? Wait, don’t tell me,” she said quickly before Castiel could answer, “you were just following orders.”

Castiel kept his composure on the outside, though admittedly, this had crossed his mind when the initial order had been given.

“Uriel was the one who gave that order,” he pointed out. “Obviously he was trying to delay being revealed as a traitor.”

“And…no one thought to question it?” Minerva countered. “No one higher up on the food chain raised an eyebrow?”

She gasped in mock surprise. “What if they did that on purpose? What if they _let_ Uriel get away with his clever little plan? That’s why they don’t want you to heal Dean; they don’t _want_ him to get better! What if they also secretly support Luci-?”

Minerva’s thought was suddenly cut off. The next thing she knew, she was pinned against the wall, Castiel’s hand wrapped around her throat, holding her up a few inches off the ground. The irony was not lost on him that he had been on the flip side of this situation not hours before.

It took Minerva a moment to catch her breath, hands instinctively clawing at the third hand around her throat. It felt like it was burning her; for all she knew, it probably was.

And this time it wasn’t her imagination. His eyes _were_ glowing. Brilliant.

“You really wanna kill me?” she rasped.

“Nothing would bring me more pleasure,” he replied without hesitation, his grip around her tightening. It took Minerva a moment to speak again.

“But…can you…afford…to?” she managed to choke out between gasps.

Castiel contemplated this. He would like nothing more than to eradicate this creature from this plane of existence. Under any other circumstances, there would be no cause for debate on this matter. She was a demon: formed from the hellfire, molded on the Rack, every ounce of humanity scraped, scorched and chiseled away. She was everything he stood against.

Yet Dean had seen value in her. Apparently, this particular demon was quite skilled at acquiring information that tended to elude the boys and even the angels. The “whispers”, as she called her information network, had proven helpful on a few vital occasions.

Castiel reluctantly released her and backed away, silently cursing himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. It seemed to be a reoccurring problem as of late.

_‘Doorways to doubt.’_

Minerva fell less than gracefully on her feet, coughing and wobbling a little, holding the wall for support. She rubbed her now sore neck.

“Well then,” she said with a grimace, “that’s gonna hurt in the morning.” She stood up straight and cleared her throat. “Close call there; would’ve been a pity for those boys to try to carry on without me.”

“Your information will not be required forever,” Castiel said. “You overestimate your importance in this.”

“Oh, I wasn’t just talking about my listening skills, though those can be hard to replace. I’m talking about my integrity.”

“Integrity? _You_?” Castiel nearly scoffed.

“Absolutely. See, I haven’t told one lie to them in the entire time I’ve known them, meanwhile you and your kind have been lying to and manipulating those two from the get-go. Between you, Uriel, and anyone else in this little game, I’m the most honest player on the board right now. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She was bombarded with his silence.

“Fine, be stubborn, but mark my words: the longer you angels stay involved, the longer those boys will be in danger.” She turned to leave, mentally kicking herself for pushing her luck with the angel; she’d all but taken death on a dinner date right then and there.

“Your freedom is an illusion.”

This made Minerva stop in her tracks. She didn’t turn around, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but she was too curious by his statement not to speak up.

“Come again?” she questioned.

“You claim to be free,” Castiel began, “yet the way I see it, you’re relying on the Winchesters to protect you because you’re not powerful enough to protect yourself. You can’t put one foot out of line or they’ll leave you to fend for yourself, or simply end your existence themselves.”

Minerva took a moment to gather herself before turning her face towards him, unintentionally mimicking his icy stare.

_Not true. Not true. I’m as free as they come. I’m not like you. I’m not like your fruitcake siblings. I’m…_

_He’s right._

“Remind me again,” he continued when she didn’t speak, “which one of us is the ‘dog on a short leash’?”

She didn’t speak again, but she glared at him a moment longer before turning and walking furiously out of the hospital.

_Damn him._

If it had been left to her, Dean would be fine and she could be helping him and Sam prevent another seal from breaking right now; instead, Dean was wasting precious time recovering from injuries he never should’ve gotten.

_Damn those angels._

Minerva didn’t trust a single one of those flying monkeys. They either followed blindly, or were trying to further their own agendas; there was no in between.

_Damn the Winchesters._

Sam she could tolerate; even with his touchy-feely attitude towards most people and situations, he had a spirit that wouldn’t die, and he was growing on her. Just barely. Dean, however, had come back from Hell with a hefty double dose of self-loathing. This was the guy who was supposed to prevent the Apocalypse, but how the hell was he supposed to save the world when he wasn’t even willing to save himself?

_Damn the world._

At least the people living in it. They were all idiots. Sometimes Minerva felt like the only person in this realm that actually used her head. Had she been more than a lesser demon, she wouldn’t even have to put up with any of them; she’d have the power to take care of any heavy lifting herself.

She paused as she stepped outside of the building and took a breath of the cool night air. She stared up at the dark sky, the lights of long-dead stars twinkling above her. After a few minutes of staring up at the endless void of space, she shoved her hands back into the pockets of her hoodie and walked off, smiling to herself.

She had never felt so alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Please comment! This is made to be stand-alone, but depending on feedback I may write more with this character.


End file.
